From This Day Forward
by meganface
Summary: The shenanigans that occur when Mickey's best friends get married.
1. the bachelor party

**So this is the third installment in the A Move Too Far 'verse, so I guess reading that (and maybe the other two one-shots) would help with knowing who some of these characters are etc, but I don't suppose it's essential? I dunno. Chapter two will hopefully be up by the weekend.**

* * *

Mickey would like it known that this wasn't his idea at all. Not even a little bit. He had plans for Dylan's bachelor party; simple, nothing over the top, but a guaranteed good time. Nate, Dylan's fucking brother who Mickey wants to deck every time he sees him, had other ideas, though.

That's why they're currently in his huge apartment, awful music blaring out of obnoxiously large speakers, a mass of people practically fucking dry-humping instead of dancing. That's another thing: there are a fuckton of people. Mickey recognises maybe 43% of them seeing as they're actually his and Dylan's friends, but there are a group of guys that are clearly Nate's college buddies who Mickey neither knows nor has any desire to. They're dressed in fucking_ polos_ for fuck's sake. Two of them have their _collars popped_.

Mickey sinks further back into the couch, sipping his beer. If he wanted to hang out with a bunch of douchebag homophobes he would've headed home.

Ian, sat beside him, tucks one leg under the other, his knee resting on Mickey's thigh. "Could you at least pretend to be having fun?" he asks, right in Mickey's ear, his warm breath forcing Mickey to suppress a shiver.

And fuck, he doesn't need to be getting turned on right now. "This - just - fuck, I _hate_ the prick."

"I know."

Mickey side-eyes Ian and realises just how badly he wants to kiss the shit out of him (ignores that voice in his head that reminds him he _always_ wants to) and licks his lips. He quickly glances around, sees that nobody is looking their way and places a short, hard kiss against Ian's lips. Gets pulled closer by Ian's hand on his neck and ends up making out with him for a solid minute before Jake comes up to them, drunk off his ass, and falls onto Ian's lap.

Ian laughs, takes the glass out of Jake's hand and takes a swig. "The fuck is this?" he asks, grimacing. His empty hand goes to Jake's waist and Mickey'd maybe say something about it if Jake weren't the president of the Mickey And Ian Fanclub. Plus the guy is hopelessly gone for Nate. Nate The Homophobe. Mickey doesn't get how Jake's mind works.

Jake giggles, shouts, "Liquor!", before straightening out the little black bow-tie he's wearing, doing the same to his light blue shirt and rushing back to dance.

"I can't believe the two of you dated." Ian takes another sip of Jake's drink, grimaces again and then places it on the solid white table by his side.

Mickey hums noncommittally, surveying the crowd. He honestly just wants to get wasted but he also knows that Dylan will be and when Dylan gets drunk he gets stupid and does stupid shit. Stupid shit that he shouldn't do two days before he gets married. Thus Mickey has resigned himself to sipping on the same beer for the past hour and will only let himself get tipsy because Zoe will probably murder him if he doesn't keep an eye on Dylan.

Still, the urge to join in when everyone does shots, to ask the guy at the bar (who Nate fucking _hired_ to serve drinks, pretentious douche) for something harder than a beer is growing stronger with every second he spends here. Which sucks because he wanted to have a good time, celebrate with Dylan and Ian and their friends and instead he has to keep his hands to himself lest he knock someone out, listen to shitty music over banal conversation and brood over how much better his version of this night would've gone.

He sighs heavily and shifts about. Like he'll gain a good mood so long as he's sat comfortably enough.

He catches sight of Dylan near the kitchen staring helplessly back at him. Mickey quirks an eyebrow and Dylan responds by jerking his head back and pointing to the quieter hallway.

"'Ey," he taps Ian's side until he looks at him, "gonna go talk Dylan out of slitting his wrists."

Ian smirks. "'Kay." He smiles and it's his drunken, goofy smile and Mickey rolls his eyes at him as he gets up.

It becomes increasingly difficult to weave his way through the crowd when a new song comes on. A couple of girls think that he's getting closer to them because he wants to dance and they sidle up to him. He glares at them and pushes the manicured hand off of his shoulder, bumping into what have to be friends Nate has from football because they're fucking giant.

Finally at Dylan's side, Mickey says, "What's up?", taking in how messed up Dylan's hair is, undoubtedly from his hands running through it.

Dylan scratches his stomach, an odd nervous habit he has, and Mickey eyes his Mick Jagger t-shirt. "Dude, I've had two girls hit on me," he says, back hitting the wall, chin to his chest. "Seriously, half of 'em don't even know why they're here. Just came for the booze." He runs both hands over his face and then through his hair.

Mickey chews on his bottom lip, unsure of what to do or say. Because what Dylan is saying is true and he's equally pissed off about it. He settles on, "Fuckin' sucks, man", and wishes that Nate didn't have a stupid rule about no smoking in his house.

Smiling at him, Dylan settles his head back against the wall. "Damn, you're even moodier than me."

"Fuck you, man. And I had plans for tonight before fuckin' Nate steamrolled 'em all. Dick." Belatedly, Mickey realises he's kind of broken the rule about bad-mouthing Dylan's brother. After Lily was born Nate was around more and so Dylan said, even though he mostly agrees with what Mickey says, to maybe lay off when he's around. He's lasted a solid month until now. "Sorry," he says, sheepish.

Dylan waves a hand. "S'cool."

"Why don't you just tell him you wanna go to a bar or something?"

"'Cause this is him bein', like, carin'." Mickey snorts. "No seriously, he actually thinks this is something I'd enjoy and I could tell how butthurt he was about not bein' my best man, so y'know..." he trails off with a shrug.

Mickey wants to say how if Nate really gave a shit he'd actually know what kind of bachelor party Dylan'd like, but he doesn't. "Just, I dunno, suggest it? Say about how this was great but you wanna go out. Somethin' like that."

Dylan scuffs his boot against the carpet and sighs. Mickey bites his tongue on a comment about pity parties. "Yeah, okay." He pushes off of the wall and loops an arm around Mickey's shoulders, dragging him back into the living room. "Thanks for the support, babe," he mumbles into Mickey's ear and Mickey can feel his smile against his earlobe and squirms away before Dylan bites it or something equally gay.

He can't believe Dylan's getting married. For a lot of reasons, actually, but it makes a lot of sense in the weirdest way; he and Zoe are the kind of perfect that makes Mickey want to hurl and smile at the same time. It's awful to live with.

Ian is chatting away with Zoe's brother, Zach, who, up until a few months after Lily was born, was living in England. He has the weirdest fucking accent and it's taken Mickey a stupidly long time to be able to talk with him without cracking up. It still makes him chuckle now and then, like when he says 'ass' and 'dude'.

He walks over to them and resists (only just) telling Ian to knock it off when he puts an arm around him and starts kissing his temple. God, dude is fucking wasted already.

Zach smiles at them fondly, shaking his head as he sips his drink. He finds Mickey and Ian endlessly amusing because he thinks they make "the weirdest couple ever" and are "actually really cute, like it's so odd". Whatever, at least Mickey doesn't talk like a twat.

After a few minutes of listening to Ian slightly slur his words as he explains something to Zach, the music is cut off and everyone who was dancing groans.

"So for everyone who's here for the party, the party is over and for those of you who are here for the _bachelor_ party, that'll continue and so y'all can stay. Everyone else can go, though." Nate hops off the speaker he was stood on and stars to herd all of his friends out of the door. How he even has friends is a fucking mystery to Mickey.

There are about fifteen people left, give or take, and they begin to huddle round Dylan as he explains where they're going with an excited smile.

...

The first bar they go to is okay. Crowded and loud and sweaty, but the music isn't awful, and there are secluded seating areas where Mickey can sit back and let Ian mark up his neck without anyone seeing.

He does this dumb giggle-snort when Ian noses just behind his ear because it fucking tickles and Ian knows that. "Fuck off," he grumbles. His voice is fond (fucking always is when he's talking to Ian nowadays, it's getting to be a problem) and Ian must pick up on it; he smiles into Mickey's neck, working his hand up the side of Mickey's shirt to rest it on Mickey's bare hip.

"Y'all realise you're in public, right?"

The voice sounds so much like Dylan's when he's drunk that Mickey doesn't bother opening his eyes until the same voice snaps, "Hey!" He looks up and sees Nate standing there, eyes half closed and face bright red.

He blows his bangs out of his face and repeats, "Y'all realise you're in public, right?", and this time it doesn't sound anything like Dylan. Nate sounds uncomfortable, veering on disgusted; Dylan would sound anything but.

"You realise you're a fuckin' ass'ole righ'?" Ian slurs, sitting up but keeping his hand on Mickey. "Why don' you go back to tryin' an' failin' to get a girl to fuck you."

Mickey barks out a startled laugh but pulls on Ian's t-shirt when he makes to stand. Weirdly enough, unlike Mickey, get Ian drunk enough and the smallest thing can make him into this huge ball of rage, starting fights with people he thinks have looked at them wrong; screaming and swearing, batting away Mickey's hands when he tries to pull him away. It mostly happens when they're out alone and literally fucking nobody believes Mickey when he tells them that Ian is actually the one they should be wary of when drunk.

For half a second he considers warning Nate, then just says, "Fuck off, man. Don't start shit, not tonight", because he can actually be a responsible adult.

Nate bristles, shoulders squaring, as if he's angry that Mickey is being the bigger person here. "Whatever," he says, "we're leavin' now, s'why I came lookin' for you."

He makes an impatient face and sighs, so Mickey hauls himself and Ian up onto their feet and gives Nate his own impatient look when, instead of moving so they can head toward the entrance, he stays stood right infront of them.

Ian giggles against Mickey's side. "Can' move wi' you righ' there."

Nate scowls at them and storms off, muttering to himself and Mickey follows with Ian clinging to him from behind.

...

Mickey doesn't know what's gone wrong in his life that he's ended up here, sat in a strip club. A _strip club_. He's been repeating it in his head over and over and it still sounds just as absurd.

One of the strippers drops to her knees right in front of him on the stage, starts to gyrate her hips in little circles. He grimaces slightly, flinches back. He's not eager to see anyone's fucking pussy, thanks.

Dylan is sat next to him round the little table and he's not watching exactly; little glances, some of them lingering, but nothing more. He's clearly uncomfortable and the rest of their friends don't seem to be that much better. Mostly, they're just pretending to strip themselves and ordering dirty sounding drinks.

Nate looks furious. Because of course this was his idea. To allow Dylan to enjoy one more night as a single man before he gets married. Which doesn't even make sense, because Dylan may not be married but he isn't anything close to single. And strippers have never been his thing. He admitted once that he's just impressed by the way they can hold themselves up in the air, not by their skimpy outfits.

The girl dancing works her way back to the pole just as Ian sits himself down in the seat beside Mickey. He places a vodka and coke in front of Mickey and has a bottle of water for himself. He isn't nearly as wasted as he was a few hours ago, but he's far from sober.

He'd slowed down his drinking when they were at the last two bars. Not that that stopped him from dancing like an idiot with Zach and Jake. It was fucking embarrassing to put it plainly. (Mickey doesn't want to even _think_ about the moment when Ian bodily forced him onto the dancefloor, gripped his hips from behind and ground his crotch against Mickey's ass. Nor does he want to think about how much it turned him on.)

"Christ," Ian says, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arm on the back of Mickey's, "her abs are more impressive than mine."

Mickey absently says, "What abs?", and gets cuffed round the head for it.

"Wish you had abs like mine," Ian mumbles with the bottle in his mouth.

Mickey jabs him in the stomach so that he chokes on the water he swigged.

At the round table next to theirs, Nate loudly clears his throat and rolls his eyes, earning Ian's attention almost immediately.

"Got a fuckin' problem?" he asks, leaning closer to Nate.

Thankfully, Nate doesn't say a word. Instead he slips a few ones in the girl's thong and winks at her. Fucking smooth criminal, this guy. The girl mouths something at him and his face falls too fast for him to cover it up.

Mickey feels the urge to tip her.

"Hey, guys," their friend, Luke, says, "you gotta try these shots, they're fucking great." He starts to hand them out and Mickey looks dubiously at the bright green liquid before thinking 'fuck it' and downing it.

It's possible Luke got the words 'great' and 'disgusting' mixed up.

He pounds his fist against his chest, coughing. "Jesus," he wheezes. Ian squeezes his neck until Mickey faces him and then swipes his thumb against the corner of Mickey's mouth where some of the shot ended up. His thumb then slowly disappears between his smirking lips.

Nate groans from beside them. "Is nobody actually interested in the fact that there are strippers right in front of us?" He looks over at the group doing shots and paying exactly zero attention to the half-naked women and then at Mickey and Ian. He slumps down in his seat. "It's like bein' around a bunch of fags," he snorts to himself, "oh, wait."

And before Mickey can stop him, Ian is up out of his chair and has a hand clasping the neck of Nate's shirt. He moves so fast that Nate actually lets out a little yelp, that'd be hilarious and worthy of mocking in any other situation, and everybody else startles by the sudden movement.

"I swear to God, one more fucking thing, man," Ian is practically growling into Nate's face. The stubborn asshole keeps trying to push Mickey away but Mickey persists because he can't be dealing with the drama that will inevitably arise if Nate ends up with a black eye.

He gets his arm around Ian's waist and whispers in his ear to calm the fuck down and step outside.

Ian's fingers tighten, the fabric of Nate's shirt getting crumpled in his fist, and he only let's go when Mickey pulls at him as Dylan tells him to stop.

They stumble outside and the cool spring air has an instant calming effect for Ian. He paces for a moment, dimly illuminated by the streetlights, before sheepishly looking over at Mickey where he's leaning against the wall and lighting a smoke.

"Done?"

Ian half-shrugs and drags his feet to stand beside Mickey. "He just gets to me, y'know?" he says, taking the cigarette when Mickey offers it. He takes a drag and blows smoke towards the ground. "Guess - I dunno - I'm still not used to it? Like, you've been out and shit for a lot longer than me. I don't really handle it all that well."

Mickey snorts and takes back the cigarette. "No shit."

Zach walks out with a nod and purposely approaches Ian slowly, hands held up in mock surrender.

Though he's glaring, Mickey can see the beginnings of a smile at the corners of Ian's mouth and directs his own at Zach. "We leavin' anytime soon?" Mickey asks him.

As he lights his own cigarette (fucking _menthols_), Zach nods. "Yep. The guys are mostly still getting giddy over the shots and Dylan managed to persuade everyone to go back to your place."

Mickey relaxes slightly with that knowledge.

...

But being back at the apartment means that Ian feels comfortable enough to start drinking again and gets shitfaced. Like, for the second time tonight. And Mickey is only a little better: he isn't stumbling around _everywhere_ and spilling his drink, but his words don't really sound right when speaks.

Dylan looks happy, though, lying on the floor in the living area and waxing poetic about Zoe and Lily, only stopping to play air guitar. He's got some classic rock CD on that everybody complained about.

In his drunken state, Mickey feels like life is fucking awesome right now. He has Ian and a job that pays good and requires minimum effort; the family members that matter to him, i.e. Mandy and Iggy, are living pretty good lives; he has friends that are only partial assholes and they're cool and always have great weed and yeah - he has Ian at his back, slipping his hands up his shirt and whispering in his ear how badly he wants to fuck Mickey.

So minus the tripping over stray shoes on their way to their bedroom, life is problem-free.

Somehow, they manage to get their shirts off before Mickey pushes Ian to the bed, drinking in how his eyes roam all over Mickey, from head-to-toe. Even now, after all this time, the fact that Ian looks at him like this, like he's fucking precious, is such a heady feeling that he just - can't.

Ian leans up on his elbows whilst Mickey gets to his knees and crawls so he's straddling his hips. Yeah, Mickey really wants to ride him.

They kiss sloppily for a few minutes; in the back of Mickey's mind, he takes note of how gross the sounds their mouths are making are. Like, seriously. But then Ian sucks on his tongue and that is all he can focus on.

When he finally gets tired of just rubbing against him, Mickey sits back with a hand to Ian's chest and wordlessly nods at Ian's jeans.

Ian smirks and he is so fucking drunk but so is Mickey so he guesses he must look just as stupid.

unsurprisingly, he couldn't care less.

He's able to wriggle his way out of his jeans and boxers then climbs back on top of Ian. He wants to bite down on that pale stretch of skin, that juncture where neck meets shoulder. Sink his teeth into flesh and _feel_ the vibration of Ian's moan, make Ian fall apart in his arms.

But Ian can barely get it together to just unzip his own jeans, so Mickey shoves his hands away, pulls Ian's jeans and boxers down, blows him, and then jacks off onto Ian's heaving chest.

It wasn't exactly his initial plan but he falls asleep feeling sated and relaxed - he can't really complain.


	2. the morning after and the wedding

There's something strangely relaxing about watching somebody sleep. Not, like, a fucking creeper or some shit, but just watching the person beside you breathe easy and calm, little twitches of muscle and the flickering beneath their eyelids; watching them lost in their own minds. Mickey thinks he could watch the gentle rise and fall of Ian's chest for hours and not find it boring, but he doesn't want to be that guy. Instead, as carefully as he can, he gets up out of bed, pulls on a pair of boxers and heads for the bathroom.

A few of his friends are passed out in various positions around the apartment, but thankfully the bathroom is empty and nobody wakes up when he flushes the toilet so he counts that as a win.

He also gargles some mouthwash because fuck morning breath, man.

When he gets back to his room Ian is snuffling quietly (it's pretty similar to the way Lily does when she's grouchy and in need of a nap) and pawing at the space Mickey left.

One of his eyes cracks open and he frowns before he sees Mickey standing there. "C'mere, back to bed," he mumbles half into his pillow.

Mickey closes the door before doing as Ian says. Both because it's hard to say no when Ian is being an adorable, sleepy dickhead and because he just wants to.

"You hungover?" he asks once he's settled beside Ian again.

Nuzzling into Mickey's neck, Ian mutters, "Yes, you prick," and slings his arm across Mickey's stomach as Mickey laughs at him.

He falls in and out of sleep for a while after that, comfortable in a way he can't seem to find the words to describe. Something internal, deep in the depths of him, feels wholly settled when he has Ian like this; so warm and content in Mickey's space. Mickey feels no need to be on guard at times like this, when his world is slowly waking up and he's caught between sleep and wakefulness. The constant agitation and alertness he still carries around like armor get put to one side and he can just be.

...

The idea to have a day to recover before the wedding was actually Zoe's idea and, upon seeing the state Dylan is in this morning, Mickey has to agree that it was a smart move.

He digs his toes into Ian's thigh until he hands Mickey a bit of his poptart. "You look like shit, man."

Dylan flops back against his bedroom door. "I know," he says, eyeing the two of them, "and you two look like you could win the award for most domestic boyfriends." He chuckles at his, quite frankly lame, joke before wincing and putting his hand to his head.

Mickey settles more comfortably against the couch, his head lolling on the armrest. Dylan can fuck off; it's not like it's his head in Ian's lap.

"Hey, has everyone left?" Dylan goes over to the kitchen and gets himself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah," Mickey says.

Dylan drags the beanbag closer to the couch and slumps down into it, easily getting sucked into the Planet Earth boxset that was already in the dvd player when Mickey turned on the tv. Lily is still really into animals and now that she can actually talk she tries to sass Mickey about what animal is best. She's definitely gotten Zoe's argumentative nature. That'll be a lot of fun when she gets older.

But that's how they spend the majority of the day: lazing about on the couch with David Attenborough's voice drowning out everything else around them, only getting up to use the bathroom and to find more food.

Every now and then Dylan will start rambling nervously about all the things that could go wrong tomorrow: the food and the cake not arriving on time, his parents causing problems, their friend who's doing the music turning up late. All sorts.

Both Mickey and Ian let him go on and on until Mickey just snaps when Dylan says he's worried that maybe Zoe won't want to marry him.

"Look, the two of you are, like, for fucking life, okay?" He raises his eyebrows at Dylan, glaring. "Thinking that all of a sudden she's gonna be like 'oh, y'know, we've been together for over two years, have been pining for each other for forever, have a daughter together, but nah, don't wanna marry him' is beyond stupid so just shut the fuck up because she's probably gonna cry and shit when you say your vows. Seriously, man, chill."

Dylan stares at him for a really long time, long enough that the silence turns unbearably awkward.

"'Kay, dude, thanks," Dylan finally says, smiling a little.

Mickey shrugs. "Whatever, just stop getting so dramatic."

...

"Jesus, would you stop sulking?"

Mickey directs his middle finger at Ian whilst his other hand fiddles with his tie. "And I'm not fuckin' sulking, man. What, do I look five years old to you?"

Ian tilts his head. "Right now? With the pout and everything?"

"Fuck off."

Ian huffs a laugh but he does actually fuck off to the kitchen, leaving Mickey sitting on the couch with a hand mirror showing him just how fucking stupid he looks. To go with the colour scheme, Dylan's got him and the rest of the groomsmen in grey suits, white shirts and lilac skinny ties, and Mickey is about 200% sure he looks like the biggest dick to grace the Earth. And no matter how many times Ian tells him he looks good, Mickey is standing firm in his contrary opinion; he just isn't a suit person.

With one final sigh, Mickey finishes messing about with his tie and flops back against the couch, dropping the mirror onto Nate's lap. He ignores the dirty look he gets for it.

Doing the dorkiest thumbs up Mickey has ever seen, Dylan wanders over to them. "Damn, you scrub up well," he says, sitting on the arm of the couch and placing an arm around Mickey's shoulders, fingers playing with Mickey's tie.

If it weren't his wedding day Mickey would hit him.

"Right? That's what I've been saying," Ian says from behind them.

Mickey reaches behind him and slaps whatever part of Ian he can reach. His hip, it turns out. "Shut the fuck up, how many times I gotta tell you?"

Ian puts his hands on Mickey's head and tilts it back. "You look good, just take the compliment." He leans down and places a loud kiss on Mickey's lip then goes into their bedroom.

Not even pretending like he isn't, Mickey watches Ian's ass as he walks. He's in a normal suit; black blazer, tie and suit pants with a white shirt. He looks fine as fuck and Mickey just - sometimes he feels stupidly lucky. Christ, this day is already making him sappy.

"Could you be less subtle?" Nate asks.

The expected nasty look is nowhere in sight; in fact Nate is smirking slightly, actually looks amused. Huh. "Probably, yeah," Mickey says, quirking a little smile. He knows that Dylan spoke to Nate some time last night, more seriously than before, and that Jake did, too, because they're sort of friends, but Mickey knows that actual homophobia doesn't just disappear over night. Whatever, though; if it means Nate is going to be less of an asshole, then great.

"Dude, you shoulda seen 'em when they first got together, amount of times I came home to them fucking on the couch," Dylan breaks off to laugh, "Jesus Christ, it was crazy. And you shoulda seen how happy he was all the time," he puts on his Texan drawl when he says, "Grinnin' like a like a mule eatin' briers!"

Mickey'd be embarrassed if he cared, but as it is he doesn't. "It wasn't even that many times, man, we stopped doing it so much when Zoe caught us and lost her shit." That particular memory is not one Mickey'd like to relive ever.

Ian comes out of their room, then, doing up the buttons on his blazer and looking at his phone. "Hey, guys, it's 2:30 we should get going."

Dylan swears under his breath and stands, adjusting his waistcoat and blazer. "Ring?"

"In my pocket," Mickey answers, pulling the box out.

Loudly inhaling, Dylan looks around at all of them. "Alright then," he says, "let's go get me married."

...

When they arrive with ten minutes to spare, there's already a small gathering of guests. Mickey eyes the weird hats some of the women are fashioning with a raised eyebrow.

The hotel is seriously fancy and despite the fact that Mickey's been here before, he can't help but look up at the painted ceiling, the huge chandelier dangling from the centre. It's crazy, definitely not what Zoe and Dylan would've chosen but Dylan's parents said they'd pay if the wedding was held here so they couldn't exactly say no.

Most of the people here are either Zoe or Dylan's family members, whose names Mickey can't remember at all. He hangs back with Ian and Zach, pretends to be too busy to go and mingle.

Andrea walks over to them after a minute or two. Her long, black hair is curled with a few little braids in there and her dress drags along the floor as she moves. Mickey doesn't think it's possible for her to look more like a hippie.

"Do I not get a hug from my own son?" she jokes, smiling at Zach.

Zach chuckles, closing his arms around her slim waist. "Sorry, mom, too busy giving Mickey an excuse to not socialise."

"Is that so?" Andrea pulls back and tilts her head at Mickey. "Am I one of the people you're avoiding?"

Fuck. Mickey fucking hates parents, seriously. Even when they're as cool and laidback as Andrea. He just doesn't know how he's supposed to act around them; polite or like himself?

"Nah, I actually know your name, so," he says, aiming for a friendly smile.

Andrea smiles again and then turns to Ian. Hugs him and kisses his cheek (because apparently Ian is a parent's wet dream, even Dylan's parents love him).

"Hey, Andrea," Ian says, "you look great."

Her smile brightens but she accepts the compliment like she's well aware of the fact, then says, "Well I'd better go make awkward small talk with Laura and Tim," nodding at Dylan's parents.

They all watch her go - her dress makes it look like she glides - and then settle back against the wall. They probably look like some sort of band, like one of the ones Ian would listen to, and Mickey hopes nobody's starting to take pictures just yet.

Then again, if they were, they'd be able to capture Ian looking like all of his fucking wishes have come true, eyes trained on the entrance. Lip is the first to spot him and he all but jogs over, smile broad.

Their chests make a thumping noise when they collide, slapping each others' backs and chatting happily.

The rest of the family quickly follows and Mickey is kind of blown away by how old Debbie and Carl look now. Then he sees Liam and nearly fucking gapes because it's been a while since Mickey last saw him (Ian got the train to Chicago a few months back but Mickey couldn't miss work) and he's grown so much.

"Jesus, how fuckin' tall are you?" he asks him.

Liam shrugs all nonchalant, says, "Tall enough that people don't call me a midget," with a pointed look at Mickey. Little shit.

Mickey shoves a hand into his afro, pushes his head away. "Yeah, fuck you."

He gets the usual from the rest of them: bro hugs from Lip, Jimmy and Carl and kisses on the cheek from Fiona and Debbie. He still doesn't focus too much on how they've just accepted him, genuinely care about his well-being, his life. He even gets texts from Debbie sometimes, asking him how work is going and shit. Mickey's never had much of a family but he's relieved that the Gallaghers consider him to be a member of theirs.

"So this place is fancy, huh?" Carl says once Fiona, Debbie and Jimmy have gone off to talk to people they barely know, eyeing up the room.

"Yeah, so don't steal or graffiti anything."

Carl glares at Ian for that, like he's offended by the assumption he'd do such a thing, like he doesn't have a record for doing worse than that.

They all talk and catch up for a little while longer, getting reacquainted with each other. Truthfully, Mickey's only half-listening, preoccupied with keeping an eye on Dylan, making sure he doesn't start his nervous stomach scratching.

He doesn't look too bad at the moment. He's talking to Nate and looks reasonably nervous but not too bad. Anyhow, Nate should be able to calm him down somehow if he starts to lose it, probably by shouting at him to chill outn but still.

Mickey's focus drifts back to the conversation happening at his side. Lack of it, actually, because it's only Ian next to him now. He wastes a moment to sweep his eyes down Ian's profile and then his body. He still isn't over how good Ian looks in his suit, leaning back against the wail with his hands in his pockets. His eyes travel back up and he sees that Ian is now looking down at him, smirking.

"What?"

Ian twists towards him, now resting his shoulder on the wall. "You are so unsubtle, it's actually pretty funny."

Mickey shrugs because he knows, okay, he fucking knows. "And like you're not."

"Yeah but you actually look ridiculous right now, like have you seen yourself?" Ian's angling his neck so that his face is closer to Mickey's, his words becoming hushed.

"I look like an idiot."

"You really, really don't." Reeling Mickey in with a hand around his tie, Ian gives him a single, lingering kiss. "You're gonna drive me crazy stood up there for so long."

A shiver works its way up Mickey's spine; he suppresses it but knows Ian felt it anyway. From the corner of his eye, he can see the guests beginning to take their seats and he gets his mouth right by Ian's ear and whispers, "And you're just gonna have to sit there and wait patiently." He lightly bites Ian's earlobe and smiles, turning away and joining Dylan at the front of the room.

...

There's a loud, collective 'aw' when Lily comes walking down the aisle. She's wearing a lilac dress with white lace over the top of it and is dropping petals on the floor. She looks fucking adorable, tongue poking out as she concentrates on sprinkling the petals evenly just like she practised.

By his side, Dylan mutters, "Oh, fuck," and has actual fucking tears in his eyes, mouth curved up in an affectionate smile. Yeah, Mickey really wants to mock him but can feel himself smiling in the same way so doesn't really have a leg to stand on.

Behind her, Natt, Zara and then Mandy come slowly walking in. They have their hair in these really intricate yet simple looking updos with strapless lilac dresses. Mickey watches as Zara catches Ian's eye and offers him a little smirk. Mickey still fucking hates the bitch.

His thoughts of getting Mandy to catfight with Zara swiftly leave his mind. Zoe looks - in a purely objective way, Mickey obviously knows that Zoe is attractive, but he's never looked at her and thought 'fuck, she's beautiful'. Now, though, that's exactly what he thinks.

She's wearing a, as she put it, mermaid style dress. It clings to her and then fans out slightly halfway down her thighs. In contrast to the white, her hair looks charcoal black, even though it's just dark brown, and it trails over her shoulders in loose waves.

Mickey looks across at Dylan to see his mouth in a little 'o' shape, eyebrows raised. "Jesus Christ," Dylan sighs, a hand running through his hair as his eyes never stray from Zoe's.

She gives her dad a kiss on the cheek and then takes her place opposite Dylan. It's weird, Mickey thinks, how you can sometimes see love on someone's face. In the gentle crease between their eyebrows, the barely their smile and that awed look in their eyes; the wonder that the person they love and want feels the same.

Mickey watches on as the ceremony starts. There's not a single guest that doesn't look fucking ecstatic about what's happening, both friends and family. And of course Mickey feels the same; he can't imagine a couple more perfect for each other (though he'd never actually admit that). But, just, fuck it's really boring. The ceremony will only last about twenty minutes but he's already drifting off, feeling uncomfortable stood in front of all of these people, not allowed to walk about or anything.

Mickey doesn't like having to stay still.

He sighs and stares down at his shoes, needs to stop being a paranoid bastard because he's pretty sure that all of Dylan's family aren't actually staring at him just in his general direction. Still, he kinda feels like he did when he spent a whole weekend just smoking meth with his brothers.

Another sighs slips through his lips and it must've been louder than the last because he gets elbowed in the ribs by Nate and glared at by Zoe. He shrugs apologetically and looks away from Zoe's laser eyes and catches Ian's instead.

It's obvious that he's been staring at Mickey for a while and his lips twitch up a bit as his eyes take a long, slow sweep down his body. Mickey both feels like squirming and walking away and ripping off all of his clothes off ready to pounce on Ian. Both of which he can't do right now so instead he stares back, remembers how Ian looked walking around their room topless in only his suit pants.

The image is a great distraction. Same way Ian trying to subtly adjust himself in his pants is. Mickey directs his smug smirk towards the floor then goes back to eye-fucking Ian, occasionally rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip, wiping away the moisture his tongue left there.

It works really well, is enough to keep Mickey entertained but not too much that he misses Dylan and Zoe's vows which basically the two of them rambling about how much they love each other and feel so lucky and happy. All this other shit that has them and a lot of guests tearing up and has Mickey smiling like an idiot.

What he's doing also goes unnoticed up to the point where Dylan has to loudly cough to gain Mickey's attention.

"Ring," he says, grinning.

Mickey clears his throat and definitely avoids looking at Zoe as he passes the ring to Dylan. From then on he makes himself watch Dylan push the ring onto Zoe's finger and her doing the same to him.

The dude marrying them, who's, like, Dylan's Uncle or something, doesn't even get the chance to finish saying "you may now kiss the bride" because Dylan full on launches himself at Zoe, scooping her up in his arms and kissing her in a way that would be so fucking inappropriate if they were in a church. There are a few wolf-whistles in amongst the applause and cheering and there's a slight blush to Zoe's cheek when Dylan let's go of her.

She slaps his chest, says, "I can't believe you," but she's grinning so wide and she's still a bit teary and Mickey knows, just knows that she's probably never been happier.

...

They all moved into this big hall, that is just as extravagantly decorated, for the reception. Much to Dylan's parents dismay, he and Zoe decided to have a buffet instead of a set meal, that way even the guests who were arriving later could still have some food if they want.

Mickey thinks it's great; he actually loathes having proper sit down meals with people. They make him feel completely out of his comfort zone and he just doesn't need that shit right now.

He's nibbling on a breadstick, watching Mandy dance with Debbie, Natt and some more of Zoe's friends, when Nate sits beside him on Ian's empty chair.

"Yeah?" Mickey asks after the silence stretches on.

"What? Am I not allowed to sit at this table?"

Mickey frowns. "Yeah, but why would you want to?"

Nate sighs and fiddles with his stupid bangs/quiff thing. "Look, I don't actually hate you, 'kay? It's just - you're y'know, you-" he groans in frustration and then suddenly stands up and walks away.

Okay then. Mickey stares after him wondering what the fuck just happened. Has Nate matured overnight or something? Has he honestly gotten over his dumbass issues?

"Thought it was Jake with the boner for him."

Mickey fake laughs at Ian before flipping him off. "He's bein' weird, man."

Ian reaches over and steals a spoonful of Mickey's pasta, saying, "Yeah? How?"

Snatching the spoon from Ian's hand once he's put it in his big, food-stealing mouth, Mickey shrugs. "Dunno. Just sat down, started saying how he doesn't hate me and then stopped making sense."

"Huh. Well if he said he doesn't hate you then when was he making sense?" Ian pulls that fucking dumb face he always does when he thinks he's being super funny and smart, like his wit is on some other level. He isn't and it's not.

"How do you not get paid to write jokes?"

Ian grins. "Right? It's crazy."

Mickey nods sarcastically, rolls up his shirt sleeves again from where they've unraveled.

"Jesus, can you not?"

Mickey's head shoots up and he raises an eyebrow. "Not what?"

Ian nods at Mickey's bare forearms and suddenly it clicks. They spent a minute making out a little bit whilst Zoe and Dylan had pictures taken and the guests were just milling about. It took the edge off for Mickey but apparently it didn't for Ian.

He smirks. "S'what you get for tryna rile me up, man."

"I didn't even - it was you in that suit, stood up there and..." he pauses to look around the room. "Come on," he says, getting up.

Mickey instantly gets to his feet and follows Ian, crunching on his breadstick and ruffling Jake's hair when they pass his table. It's only when they he sees the signs for the toilets that Mickey gets why Ian's in such a rush.

"Zoe will fuckin' murder us dead if we fuck during her wedding reception, man."

Wearing a pleased smirk, Ian begins walking backwards. "I'm not gonna fuck you, I'm gonna blow you."

"Oh really?"

Ian nods, pauses and waits for Mickey to catch up. With a hand on Mickey's hip, Ian draws him in closer until they're pressed up against each other and kisses him. A slow, searching type of kiss that makes Mickey feel like he's sinking into Ian. And it isn't until he nearly stumbles over his feet that he realises that Ian's begun walking them closer to the toilets and he smiles against Ian's lip.

The toilets are thankfully empty and Ian rushes them into one of the stalls and hastily locks the door before dropping to his knees. He already looks fucking obscene, his quick fingers opening Mickey's belt and suit pants, hands sliding into his boxer-briefs and palming at his ass.

Mickey bites his lip and prays to every fucking deity he knows that no-one decides they need to piss until he's come.

Ian nips just below Mickey's naval, wets the front of Mickey's underwear as he tongues at Mickey's dick through them, getting him fully hard in about five seconds.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of them, Ian drags Mickey's underwear down his legs until they're pooling around his ankles with his suit pants. He shuffles forward a little, gets a hand around the base of Mickey's dick and suckles lightly on the head.

Mickey's head falls back against the stall door, his hand going round to cup the back of Ian's head. Fingers scrabbling against Ian's skull when Ian's mouth slowly moves down the length of him and all Mickey can feel is tight, wet heat.

He moans, looks at Ian's lips stretched around him, his dead bobbing back and forth. Mickey's come to learn that there are serious perks to only having sex with one person for a significant period of time, and one of those is how they know exactly what to do to get you off and how to tease you, leave you fucking begging for more.

Ian swirls his tongue around the head of Mickey's dick as he speeds up, looking up into Mickey's eyes when he takes him in right down to the base, cheeks hollowing out. Fuck, the sight of it alone could probably make Mickey come

"Shit," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. He can already feel himself getting close, the sensation building and building as Ian sucks him down deeper, just how Mickey loves it.

He doesn't even bother warning Ian that he's about to come because by now Ian knows all of his little signs. Besides, he's a swallower, so Mickey just tightens his hand on Ian's head and bites his lip on a grunt as he comes down Ian's throat.

He slumps against the stall door, chest heaving.

"Hey, come on, need to wash my face a little."

Mickey opens his droopy eyes, sees Ian there wiping at the corner of his mouth. His cheeks are flushed, lips plush and Mickey trips forward and shoves his tongue in Ian's mouth, kissing him like he has zero experience and not even caring.

Ian chuckles against him. "Okay, okay, come on, seriously." He manouvers around Mickey and opens the door whilst Mickey pulls up his boxer-briefs and suit pants.

He feels so fucking sated and satisfied right now, grinning like a dumbass as he crowds up behind Ian where he's bent over the sink. "Not even gonna let me return the favour?" he murmurs between Ian's shoulder blades, hands on Ian's hips.

Looking at Mickey in the mirror reflection, Ian spits out the water in his mouth, is about to say something when the door to the toilets swings open, slamming against the wall behind it.

Both of them stare at the sight of Jake and Nate, fucking Nate, kissing and groping, banging into the walls and only stopping when they crash into the condom machine on the wall. As expected they practically leap apart when they see Ian and Mickey stood there and Mickey just - he - what the actual fuck? Has he entered some alternate universe or some shit?

Jake is blushing an ugly red colour, his hand running through his hair. "Um... yeah," he says, looking across at Nate and then back at Ian and Mickey.

"So the two of you are... together?" Ian asks, disbelieving, after they all spend several seconds simply looking at each other.

Mickey notices how Nate flinches at that but at least he doesn't try to claim that they aren't. Or that he at least wants them to be.

"Okay then, well." Ian looks expectantly at Mickey and what, does he expect Mickey to offer some words of wisdom or something? Because all Mickey wants to do is maybe shove Nate against a wall and punch him a little bit for being such a huge fucking prick when he was just scared shitless.

Without giving it concsious thought, Mickey takes a step towards them and Jake's eyes widen.

"Mickey," he says, a plea and a warning.

Mickey stops but he stares Nate down, makes sure he looks threatening because he swears to fucking god, he will fucking kill Nate if he messes Jake around, Dylan's brother or not.

Once he and Ian are out in the hall again, Dylan spots them and loudly tells them to get their asses on the dancefloor. Mickey rolls his eyes but heads over because Lily's been asking him to dance for ages and he guesses now is as good time as any to awkwardly shuffle her around.

Dylan sways into their space, clearly drunk already, and places sloppy kisses on both of their foreheads. "If it isn't my favourite gays," he says, still moving to the beat of the song.

Mickey rolls his eyes but can't help smiling when Lily spots him and runs over. "Dance wi' me unca Mickey," she says, her excitement making her sound just as young as she is, though usually her speech is pretty well developed. They all have Dylan to thank for that.

"Yeah, okay, brat." He takes her hands in his and lifts her so that her feet are atop his.

Lily beams up at him and he starts to shuffle side-to-side, letting her sway their arms to a beat that isn't even remotely close to the one the song has.

A flash of light and a snapping sound goes off beside them and Mickey hangs his head, sighing. Why are cameras apparently essential for guests to bring to weddings? And why does his sister own one?

"Aw, Mickey, don't get camera shy," Ian shouts over the music, arm around Mandy.

Mickey bites his tongue on all of the profanity that threatens to leave his mouth and mouths 'fuck you' at the two of them before spinning he and Lily around so that his back to them.

It's not long until Lily grows bored and lifts her arms. Picking her up, Mickey walks them back over to the table. Sits her down on his lap and stretches to get her colouring book and pencils.

She says a happy, "Thank you," as she flicks through the pages, finding one that is free from her scribbles. It's of course a colouring book filled with pictures of cartoon animals, some of them in weird-ass situations (Mickey frowns, confused, when Lily turns a page that has a cheetah smiling by a race car) and others in their natural habitat. The latter of which are Lily's favourites.

Once she finds a picture she's satisfied with - a lion and a zebra happily lying beside each other, because that's a likely situation - she begins to squirm around on Mickey's lap, trying to get closer to the table.

Mickey watches on amused until she turns to look at him with her big puppy eyes on full force.

"Oh you need me to move, huh?"

Christ, her unimpressed face is scarily like Zoe's. Mickey scoots his chair in closer, an arm around her stomach so that she doesn't fall off in the process.

Lily grins at him and hands Mickey a black. "You can do the zebwa," she says, like it's a huge privilege.

"Wow, thanks." Unfortunately his sarcasm is lost on her but he begins to shade in every other stripe on the zebra, every now and then taking sips of his beer. For now, he's happy to just chill out and colour in some creepy looking animals.

...

After his fourth beer and the array of shots he did, Mickey finds himself on the dancefloor with a just as sober (read: not sober at all) Ian snug against his back, grinding against him. The entire floor is covered with people dancing, even Jake and Nate now that Dylan's parents, aunts and uncles have left. Mickey made a drunken threat to castrate Nate if he fucked Jake around and then handed him a shot.

So yeah, Mickey is feeling fucking fantastic about life and everything in general. Enough so that he lets Dylan force him into an embrace that would never even come close to passing as a bro hug.

"Dude, I love you, okay?" he shouts in Mickey's ear. "You're the fuckin' best an' I love you - I'm doin' this tonight, you're probably gonna start a fight! - god, I love this song, fuckin' old school," he drops his forehead to Mickey's shoulder. "I'm really happy, though, y'know? Don't think I've ever been this happy. You happy?"

Mickey nods, a dazed smile on his face. "Yeah, man."

Dylan stands upright again, hands a heavy weight on Mickey's shoulders. He squints his eyes and looks back and forth between Mickey's eyes. "Good. I'm glad you're happy, Mickey, glad you moved 'ere an' that we met and - no, no let me finish," he draws Mickey in with a hand to his neck as Mickey twists, uncomfortable with where the conversation is going, "you're one of my favourite people an', an' - y'know? Love ya."

"Yeah, okay," Mickey says shakily, forcing out a laugh so that he doesn't say something overly emotional.

But Dylan smiles like he already knows everything that Mickey isn't and maybe that's enough.

"Hey, stop tryna steal my man." Ian comes up behind Mickey again, places a soft kiss just behind his ear.

"Have you seen my wife?" Dylan steps back (and right into Zoe). "Look at her!" he pulls her into his arms and they smile at each other. That is before they kiss. And then kiss some more like they're trying to eat each other.

Ian and Mickey take that as their cue to go back to the table.

Once they're seated Ian scoots his chair closer to Mickey's and nuzzles into his neck. "Can I say somethin'?"

"Sure."

"Won't lose it?"

Mickey pulls Ian's legs onto his lap. "Nah."

"Good 'cause you snapping after I tell I love you would kill the mood so bad. And I do. Love you, I mean. I love you."

Mickey tenses, feels his heart begin to race and even now his first instinct is to get up and go. He can't, though, and he realises that he doesn't even want to because he's known for a while, would be an idiot not to. It's been the elephant in the room they both avoid talking about because what's the point? Now that Ian's said it, though, Mickey can understand it; for the most part, he believes that actions do speak louder than words, that just because someone says you can trust them doesn't mean shit unless they show you you can, and he figured the same went for loving someone. He was wrong to think that. So fucking wrong because hearing Ian say it is like - it's fucking weird and amazing and scary all at the same time and probably one of the best things anyone has ever said to him.

So he ignores the part of him that lets the fear win and says, "Yeah, I, uh, love you, too," hoping that it'll mean the same to Ian as it does to him.


End file.
